


30-Day HQ Writing Challenge: Kuroken

by emerald1963



Series: 30 Day HQ Writing Challenge [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Agender Character, Agender Kenma because who doesn't love that, Anxiety Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emerald1963/pseuds/emerald1963
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my Kuroken fics for the 30-Day Haikyuu Writing Challenge!</p>
<p>Chapter 1: At the Club<br/>When Kuroo first asks, Kenma is sure they’ve misheard him. They pause their game and look up sharply at Kuroo, fingers falling from the controls. “What did you say?”<br/>“I said, do you want to come clubbing on Friday night?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	30-Day HQ Writing Challenge: Kuroken

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome back to my 30-Day Haikyuu Challenge! This one comes with a warning- in this fic, Kenma experiences an anxiety attack (at least I think it could be termed that- it's mostly based on my personal experience with social anxiety). If you don't feel comfortable with that, I would suggest skipping this one! For everyone else, I hope you enjoy! My tumblr is over at [oikawatooruinedmylife](http://oikawatooruinedmylife.tumblr.com) for questions or comments, as always! (also please message me if I effed up any pronouns because I tried to read it super-carefully but I could have missed something)  
> Also, this is set in the same world as [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3597462/chapters/7935477), [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3597462/chapters/8031303), and [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3603426/chapters/7950174), because that's basically my official college AU for these boys now. It's set sometime in Kenma's second year of uni!

When Kuroo first asks, Kenma is sure they’ve misheard him. They pause their game and look up sharply at Kuroo, fingers falling from the controls. “What did you say?”

“I said, do you want to come clubbing on Friday night?”

Kenma blinks up at him in disbelief. “Why would I want to go clubbing?” On the fairly long list of things Kenma dislikes, crowds, dark spaces, and loud music are all somewhere near the top of the list. They thought Kuroo knew that.

“Tsukki finally managed to get a gig DJ’ing in Club Escape. His first night is Friday. Bokuto and I are trying to get as many people out as we can to support him. What do you say?” Kuroo’s face is shining, his eyes wide with hope.

Kenma hums noncommittally, hoping that Kuroo will pick up on the hint and give them some time to think about it. They like Tsukishima fine, and it would be nice to give him some support, but clubbing… Kenma really, really doesn’t know if that’s a good idea.

“Come on, Tsukki would be really happy to see you there. He’s really excited for this- well, as excited as he ever is,” Kuroo responds. “Please, for me?” Kuroo’s giving them the pleading eyes now, goddammit. Kenma’s perfectly _capable_ of resisting the pleading eyes, of course, but it takes a lot less energy to just give in. 

“I just don’t know about all the crowds,” Kenma says.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t think of that. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Kuroo has seen Kenma break down from social overstimulation more than a few times. He clearly doesn’t want Kenma to have to go through that again, which they appreciate, but at the same time, his face is dropping and Kenma can see the slightly veiled disappointment in his eyes. Kenma can’t stand that. For Kuroo, they’ll try.

“Fine,” Kenma grumbles, “I’ll go to the club.”

“Awww, thanks. You’re such a good datefriend.” Kuroo pecks them lightly on the cheek. “We can leave if you need to, I promise.”

Kenma just hums again and returns to their game. Being Kuroo’s partner can get exhausting. He means well, Kenma knows, when he drags them out to events like this, and sometimes they’re actually enjoyable. Kenma’s even made some new friends that way. They are lucky, they know, that they have Kuroo to keep them from being alone and holed up in their room all day, unsure as to how to interact with the rest of society. But that doesn’t stop Kenma from worrying about this.

As the school week passes and it gets closer and closer to Friday, Kuroo gets more and more excited as Kenma gets more and more nervous. Kuroo’s organized a small mob of friends to come out and support Tsukishima- anyone from Karasuno who went to Tokyo for college (which is, surprisingly, most of them) as well as their university’s entire volleyball team and an entire assortment of Kuroo’s friends from classes and clubs. Bokuto and Akaashi, Kuroo and Kenma’s other roommates, are coming along as well; Bokuto and Kuroo seem to be feeding into each others’ excitement, as they so often do, raising the energy level in their apartment to near-record highs. Akaashi doesn’t seem to be particularly enthused about the prospect of the club, but he also doesn’t seem to mind going. Kenma wishes that they could be that unruffled by the prospect of spending several hours late at night in a crowded, dark room full of way too many drunk people. Oh well, they’ll get through it somehow.

The night of the event, Kuroo is practically vibrating with excitement. “Come on,” he says to Kenma, “help me pick out an outfit.”

“What, are you dressing up for this, Kuro?” asks Kenma. 

“I’m not going suit-and-tie or anything, but I want to look hot tonight!” Kuroo says like they’re an idiot. “Don’t you?”

“I just thought I’d wear this,” Kenma says, gesturing at their college sweatpants and hoodie ensemble. They weren’t actually planning to wear that- it would be much too hot in the club, for one thing- but sometimes it’s kind of fun to horrify Kuroo, and they know that at this point Kuroo is going to end up picking out their outfit no matter what they say.

Kenma ends up in a pair of artfully ripped skinny jeans and some tight T-shirt with English words Kenma doesn’t know scrawled across the front. It’s not stuff they’d usually wear- Kuroo bought it for them on some shopping trip or other- but if pressed for an opinion they’d admit that they looked pretty good in it. Kuroo’s wearing something similar; his shirt does a great job of showing off his chest muscles, even more toned from college volleyball than they were in high school. Kenma approves.

Tsukishima’s set starts at midnight; the four friends set out from their apartment at eleven so they can make sure to make it into the club in time. There’s a line outside, but not so long that they won’t get in on time. Kenma rubs their arms in the cool night air, trying to keep warm- they should have brought a jacket, but they didn’t want to have to carry it around. They try hard to clear the clouds of irritation out of their mind. If they go into the club with this set of mind, then they’re not going to enjoy it no matter how much fun it ends up being.

“Hey, you doing all right?” Kuroo turns to Kenma in line, his face wrinkling in concern. “You look all stiff.”

“I’m fine,” Kenma mumbles, trying to smile. “Just tired.”

“It’ll be fun.” Kuroo smiles back at them, a real one. “You brought your earplugs, right?”

Kenma reaches their hand into their pocket and feels around for the squishy shape of the earplugs. Kuroo had given the earplugs to them the night before, thinking it might help if the music got too loud. “Yeah, I have them.”

“All right, we’re all set.” Kuroo slings his arm around Kenma’s shoulders. “Thanks for coming. Tsukki will really appreciate it, I bet.” He bounces up and down on his tiptoes a couple times to let off nervous energy, his arm thudding down across the back of Kenma’s neck every time he hits the ground again. Kenma rolls their eyes- their partner can be such a child sometimes, honestly. But if he didn’t have all that energy and cheer, he wouldn’t be the Kuroo that Kenma loves.

The line moves forward at a fairly fast clip, and all too soon they’re inside and falling into a surging crowd of people. The club can’t be more than half full this early in the evening, but the multicolored spotlights that are the only source of illumination, darting restlessly across the dance floor, make it feel like there’s a roiling and endless sea of people. Kenma automatically seeks Kuroo’s hand, but it’s still draped across their shoulders. Instead, they lean in closer to Kuroo, soaking up the tall boy’s warmth and reassuring presence. It’s not so bad, they tell themselves firmly. It’s not.

Tsukishima is over by the DJ table, headphones clamped firmly around his ears already. He waves at them as they approach, his mouth giving a slight twitch that Kenma thinks was probably a smile. 

“Hey hey hey,” Bokuto yells, so exuberantly that people in the crowd turn to look at him. Tsukishima covers his face with one hand in a gesture of resignation.

“Hello, everyone,” he says. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hey Tsukki!” Kuroo relinquishes his grasp on Kenma, a sudden chill going up their side from the loss of contact, and slaps Tsukishima on the back. Tsukishima huffs out a short startled breath. “Are you nervous?” 

“Not at all,” says Tsukishima a little stiffly. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will!” says Kuroo, grinning. “Your taste in music is fantastic!”

Tsukishima nods. “Now go away, I need to get in the mood and my set starts in fifteen minutes.”

“Your wish is my command,” Kuroo says and bows semi-ironically. “Come on guys, let’s go get drinks.”

Kenma doesn’t drink, but they’re glad to get handed a glass of water anyway; it gives their hands something to hold onto. Kuroo gets a whiskey for himself, slams it back in one shot, and then orders a rum and coke. Looks like he’s planning on getting smashed tonight. Kenma sighs. 

It’s not really so bad after all, Kenma decides after the first few minutes. Not while they’re all leaning up against the walls with their beverages and chatting. Sure, it’s a little loud, and a little hot, and there are a lot of people, but Kenma can handle it. Akaashi doesn’t seem inclined to dance either, so the two of them can just talk about their progress in their majors (Akaashi studies literature while Kenma is going for their degree in computer science). It’s much more low-key than Kenma thought it would be. Slowly, they stop thinking that it was a bad idea to go here.

And then Tsukishima’s set starts, and the club goes wild. Kenma can’t really tell what’s so special about the music- it’s a genre they never listen to, trance-like with pounding beats- but whatever it is, everyone there seems to love it. The people throw themselves into dancing with a frenzied energy, and the lights are flickering madly everywhere over the crowd, and the beat is almost painfully loud. Their friends move onto the dance floor, Bokuto dragging an apologetic-looking Akaashi along behind him. Kenma stays against the wall, slipping their ear plugs in. It’s going to be a long night.

The club is very full- after a while, the edge of the moshing crowd is approaching Kenma’s spot. They try to crush themselves against the wall, to make themselves smaller through one way or another. Even though no one has come within three feet of them, they feel like the edges of something are constantly brushing up against them. The earplugs are helping a little, but the music is still almost mind-shatteringly loud. Kenma doesn’t understand how people could go partying like this frequently and not lose all of their hearing. Even disregarding that sense, Kenma can _feel_ the music- the bass is pounding up through their feet and accompanying their heartbeat in their chest. 

Everything is too much. Kenma downs the last of their water in a quick gulp, hoping the icy cold will keep them grounded. They consider going to the bar to get a new cup, then realize that the bar is all the way across the room and they’d have to cross the sea of dancers to get to it. It’s not worth it. They roll the empty cup around their hands and tap their feet, fidgeting uncomfortably. They can feel sweat already plastering the back of their shirt to them, even though they haven’t been exerting themselves at all- it’s the combined body heat of the several hundred people in the club. Kenma can feel all the heat, all the energy, all the emotion boring into them. 

Where’s Kuroo? Kenma stands on their tiptoes to look over the crowd, searching for a familiar bedhead, but he’s nowhere in sight. He’s disappeared, and there’s no way Kenma’s going anywhere near that mass of people to find him. They’re well and truly being jostled now, the mass of people having reached the wall. An elbow thuds into their chest, accompanied by a muffled, “Sorry, man,” and Kenma suddenly can’t breathe. They can’t tell if it’s the bass from the song or their heartbeat that’s speeding up to a nearly unbearable rate. Everything is _too near_ and _too loud_ and _too close_ and _too big_ and _too much_.

This was a really bad idea and Kenma really needs to go home, but Kuroo is nowhere to be found. Kenma can’t leave without him- they have a terrible sense of direction and have no idea where home even is. And there’s no chance Kuroo is going to even notice his phone buzzing in this _crowd_ , this huge, sweaty, packed, busy, wild, _unbearable_ crowd. Kenma’s breathing is coming in pants. They feel like a huge hand has locked around their chest. They know that they are breathing, that their heart is still pumping blood, that they are, for all intents and purposes, alive, but they don’t think that any of their vital functions are delivering any oxygen to their brain anymore, because they can’t _think_. Their empty cup falls unnoticed to the floor, immediately being crushed by trampling feet. Every one of Kenma’s mental functions is out of control. They think they let out a strained whimper, but they can’t hear anything over the twin sounds of Tsukishima’s music and the pounding of blood in their ears.

Somehow, they’re moving. They force their legs to move, one step at a time, because they have to get _out_ , away from here, they don’t even care if they get lost- and then they’re through a door and the impact of the music diminishes a little.

Kenma blinks until the world stops blurring around them. There are stalls, mirrors, sinks- ah, they’ve found the girls’ bathroom. Well, good enough. They collapse against the wall by the sink, legs giving out underneath them. The floor is probably disgusting, but Kenma doesn’t think they’ve ever cared less about germs. They wrap their arms around their knees and tuck in their head, rocking back and forth a little. Everything is better in here- the music is still pounding in their head and their limbs, drowning out their heart, but there are fewer people and the fluorescent light is blissfully steady. It’s a few degrees cooler in here, too. 

Kenma huddles against the wall, eyes closed and earplugs in, trying to willfully block out the world. They try to slow their breathing down, even though they’re still gasping for air, telling themselves that everything is fine, they’re safe now. They don’t feel anywhere near safe; they feel like a monster is hovering right behind their back and the only thing that matters is to get _away_ where it can’t hurt them. But there’s nowhere else to run, and Kenma _can’t_ go back out there, so they tell themselves they’re safe, repeating it in their head like a mantra, hoping that maybe they’ll believe it.

Someone taps them on the shoulder and they jump. The same someone is saying something, Kenma thinks, but they can’t really hear it through their earplugs. Hands shaking, they pull one halfway out in time to hear the girl repeat herself. “Kenma-san, are you all right?”

They look up and realize they’ve met this girl before- it’s Karasuno’s old manager, Yachi, who goes to art school somewhere in the city. They don’t have enough control of their mouth right now to answer, so they just shake their head fractionally.

“What’s wrong?”

Kenma licks their dry lips, tries to form a reply. “Too much,” is what they rasp out.

Yachi dances from foot to foot anxiously. “Do you want me to call Kuroo-san?” she asks.

Kenma shakes their head. “He won’t answer.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Yachi asks nervously. “I get anxiety a lot, so I could try to, um, talk you through it…”

Kenma shakes their head. It’s sweet of Yachi to offer, but there’s only one person they want there right now; if he’s not here, they’d rather be alone. Having another person there, especially one they don’t know that well, just reminds them of the massive crush of humanity that’s probably crashing up against the other side of the wall they’re leaning against right now.

“O-okay, if you’re sure!” Yachi squeaks out, and turns on her heel. As soon as she’s gone, Kenma shoves their earplug back in and rests their head against their knees. Their pulse or the bass is still thudding through their ears, setting their whole body shaking. Their sweat has completely soaked through their shirt now, they think. They must look like a complete mess right now. Their fingers grasp at open air before their hands find each other and clench together. The grip is just past painful; the pain helps keep them grounded to reality. They grind their teeth so hard it sends shock waves through their jaw and try to swallow down the lump of terror in their throat.

And then suddenly another body slumps down next to them and there’s a warm arm across their shoulder. “Hey,” says Kuroo, just loudly enough that Kenma can hear it through the earplugs. “Yacchan found me and told me where you were.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Kenma mutters- it’s the first thing that comes into their head. They pull out their left earplug, letting Kuroo speak directly into their ear.

“You’re in here and you’re in trouble,” Kuroo shrugs. “I’d like to see anyone try and stop me from coming in after you.”

“I’m not in trouble,” Kenma denies weakly. The words sound like a lie leaving their lips. “I’m just…” they trail off. “I don’t know. I’m dumb.” It’s already easier to breathe and to speak now that Kuroo is here. To the lizard part of Kenma’s brain, the ancient ancestral part that won’t shut up at times like this, Kuroo is safety. Their amygdala can’t panic as freely when they’re leaning into Kuroo’s secure warmth. Kuroo won’t let anything hurt them.

“You’re not dumb,” says Kuroo, gripping them more tightly. “I’m the dumb one. I should have known this was a bad place for you.”

“Yeah, well, I knew and I went anyway,” says Kenma, a little shakily and a little sourly. Their trembling is starting to calm down too, thank goodness.

“I shouldn’t have guilted you into it. I’m sorry, I was being a shitty datefriend.”

“You’re not shitty,” says Kenma firmly. This is their own fault, it’s not Kuroo’s.

“Can you walk, do you think?” Kuroo asks. Kenma thinks about navigating the crowd and stiffens automatically. Kuroo rubs a reassuring hand down their back. “We don’t have to leave until you’re ready.”

Kenma realizes that Kuroo is honestly ready to leave, to completely ditch this party barely forty-five minutes in just for them. They’re so grateful they can hardly breathe. “Tsukishima’s still on, though…” they say half-heartedly.

“Tsukki’s a big boy, he can deal,” says Kuroo. “He’ll have other jobs, I bet. Everyone’s loving it. They’re going crazy out there- well, I guess you know that,” he adds.

“Okay, I’m ready,” says Kenma, standing up shakily. They’re not sure they actually are, but at this point they’d rather risk it and get out.

Once they leave the bathroom, Kenma freezes, eyes captivated by the flashing lights and the crush of people. They try to move their legs, but nothing happens, save their breathing speeding up again.

“Close your eyes,” says Kuroo, both hands on Kenma’s shoulders. “I’ll steer you.”

Kenma obeys. They must look ridiculous, half-stumbling through the crowd, Kuroo clenching Kenma’s shoulders, but Kenma would rather look ridiculous than be the one doing the looking. 

“Reach your hands out and push,” Kuroo commands softly, and they do, and the door creaks open, and then a blast of cool air hits their face and they’re out on the street and Kenma can breathe.

“Open your eyes,” says Kuroo. Kenma does, and pulls out the earplugs too. 

“Thank you,” they say, too exhausted to put emotion into their voice.

“That’s what I’m here for,” says Kuroo, releasing Kenma’s shoulders, flipping them around, and pulling them into a hug instead. Kenma breathes into Kuroo’s chest, smelling his cologne and sweat and something ineffably him. It’s Kenma’s favorite smell.

“Now,” Kuroo continues. “We have two choices, I think. We could go straight home, or, we could go to that diner with the fantastic apple pie. It’s only a few blocks from here and it’s open all night. What do you think?”

“Apple pie, please,” says Kenma, and smiles against Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo knows them so well, it’s incredible. He knows how good a sugar rush will feel for Kenma after one of their anxiety attacks. Kenma’s lucky, even if Kuroo drags them out on stupid stuff like this sometimes.

“All right, home can wait,” Kuroo says, ducking his chin down so it rests on top of Kenma’s head.

Kenma relaxes into Kuroo’s embrace, feeling really at ease for the first time all night. “I’m already home.”


End file.
